Chess
by kiwifluffy
Summary: I have absolutely no idea what is going on here... Basically, a chess game between two powerful beings, with Winston and Julia as pawns. Or something.


Deep underground, situated beneath a huge building with no windows, two figures sit, watching each other. A teapot sits on one side, chipped blue china mugs full of hot tea next to it. Steam rises upwards, drifting lazily into the path of the ceiling fan, which disperses it across the room, blades swirling silently through the air. The room is silent.

The man on the left of the table sits back in his chair, head cocked slightly to one side, his white hair combed back from his eyes- barely visible above a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. His lean Jewish features are smooth, and betray no emotion.

Where the first man is white, nearly translucent features outlined by silvery hair, his counterpart is black. He sits forward on his chair, leaning towards the first man with an almost unsettling fascination. His black hair is combed immaculately, matching black moustache still failing to hide the slight frown creasing his pale features. Both men are perfectly calm, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Steam rises from the mugs sitting on the table.

Far above them, the world continues its lazy cycle around the sun.

Slowly, the black man lowers a hand and reaches towards the object between them. His fingers tremble slightly as he lifts a chess piece- a bishop- and moves it two squares. The entire time, his eyes stare into those of his counterpart. Slowly he withdraws his hand, all signs of weakness gone. He stares into the eyes of his opponent, silently indicating for him to move.

Steam rises from the mugs sitting on the table. Both cups lie ignored.

The man in white glances away from his opponent, surveying the board. His pieces are spread across it, clearly outnumbered. His white pieces- old ivory ones chipped almost beyond recognition in some cases- lie on the ground, swept away by overwhelming numbers. And yet, as each one dies, two more seem to replace it.

This is no ordinary chess game.

The white man reaches down, his hand hovering over a pawn. So far, it has played a minor role. He stares at it for a moment, almost reverently. _Sometimes it is the people no one expects anything from who do the things no one expects_. His gnarled, twisted fingers brush against it for a moment before removing it from its safe position and shifting it forwards, leading a charge towards enemy lines. His eyes flick to another pawn, next to it, and his opponent knows what his next move will be.

Steam rises from the mugs sitting on the table.

The black man frowns deeper, just for a moment his eyes betraying his true thoughts. His counterpart just smiles.

Black moves a knight to another section of the board, allowing the pawn's foolhardy attempt to go unnoticed for the time being. Moving the pawns is a suicide move, one that will gain nothing. White knows it. Black decides to play white's game.

Steam rises from the mugs sitting on the table.

White takes the second pawn from its safe position and moves it to join the first. The moment white pulls his hand back from the board, they stand exposed, unable to defend each other, neither one in any position to help their comrades. Unaware of the existence of any other pieces, with the exception of the black that surrounds them. The white man glances up, and his eyes lock with his opponent. White smiles faintly. Black does not return it.

Steam rises from the mugs sitting on the table.

The black queen comes crashing down on the first pawn moved, mercilessly sending it flying over the edge. It crashes to the ground, the tiny sound infinitesimally loud in the complete silence of the room. White makes no move to protest.

Steam rises from the mugs sitting on the table.

White moves the second pawn forward one more space, deeper into enemy territory. Black frowns, puzzled. Nothing can be done to protect it. Not for the first time in this game- far from it, some say that it has been played constantly for decades- black wonders if white is insane.

White, clearly following the thought processes of his opponent, just smiles.

Black lifts the queen and, almost reluctantly, taps the pawn lightly on the base. Both players watch as it rolls, over and over, before eventually toppling over the edge. The piece fractures as it strikes the ground, the old ivory clacking against the concrete floor, watched by both players. White lifts another piece, elsewhere on the board, and shuffles it forwards, preparing for a proper battle.

Steam rises from the mugs sitting on the table.

Far above, the man who had once been called Winston Smith sat in a café, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he finally accepted what was supposed to have happened many years ago.

On the floor of that room, deep underground, a shattered white pawn changes its colour to black, and the black man scoops it up, carefully placing both halves back on the board. White stared at it for a moment, then moved another piece forward.

One of the black pieces seems to flicker, and becomes a white one.  
White stares at it, then shakes his head and moves another piece. It will not last long.

Untouched, steam rises from the mugs sitting on the table.


End file.
